


A Joke About Loser 20-Year-Olds and Teenagers

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: PruIta Oneshots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Human, M/M, POV First Person, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're building a God damned greenhouse."</p><p>Feliciano looked up from his sketchbook and blinked once or twice. I don't think he heard me. "What?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Joke About Loser 20-Year-Olds and Teenagers

**Author's Note:**

> **Anonymous said:** PruIta and winter gardening?

"We're building a fucking greenhouse."

Feliciano looked up from his sketchbook and blinked once or twice. I don't think he heard me. "What?"

I turned away from the window. "Look, I've been seeing you mope around the house and everything. I'm sorry Germany—however fucking awesome—doesn't have the climate to support gardening in the winter. But!"

I marched across the room. I offered by hands to Feliciano, and he took them. I tugged him up and led him back to the window, and I tapped against the glass, fingers shaking because he was grinning at me.

"We're going to build a giant greenhouse right there. And you're going to garden in it."

Feliciano looked from the empty ass yard to me. His eyes did that thing they always did, half shut like he was half in a dream. "Really?"

You bet your sweet ass, Feliciano.

I would have said that, but once he opens his mouth he thinks of ten other things to say and needs to say them all before he forgets. Or, at least that's what he told me.

"How big is it going to be?"

Large enough to rival any fucking garden in Italy.

"How does it stay warm even though there's snow everywhere?"

Okay, I don't really—

"Are you sure you can build it even though it's going to snow soon?"

Shit, is it supposed to snow soon—

"Do you have wood?"

Sort of?

"What do you put around the outside of a greenhouse?"

I sort of just looked at him, tried to keep a smile on my face. But he was already running ahead, picturing flowers and tomatoes and whatever you grow in a garden.

What the fuck  _do_ you put around the outside of a greenhouse? I wanted to say plastic, but—

"Thank you, Gilbert."

I looked back at him, and I suddenly realized how close we were standing, and I laughed but something caught in my throat so I ended up making this weird wheezing noise but damn it I was committed so I turned the laugh/wheeze into a cough.

"Yeah, no problem," I finally said after I caught my breath.

Alright, I'm not stupid. I sort-of built a treehouse, once. I don't think a greenhouse can be that much different. Hell, it'll be easier, because it's on the ground.

So, I started out marking how big the greenhouse would be with wooden pegs.

First step is always the hardest.

"Is that how big it's going to be?" Feliciano bounced around the pegs as I measured. "What do you think I should plant first? Do you think it should just be vegetables or fruit, too?"

"Fruit. Hops." I grinned.

"Hard apple cider?" He smiled back. "What type of wood are you using?"

"I know a guy."

Feliciano made a face, his eyebrow dipping down, his smile a little lopsided. "You know a guy? What sort of guy?"

"He, uh… Well, uh—" Holy shit, get your shit together. "Well, I'm going to ask him for some wood. He tends to have weird shit like that lying around. You know."

Feliciano nodded. "Is it Ivan? Ludwig told me about Ivan, and he said I should stay away because he's not right in the head, or well, that's what he made it sound like, probably because he has piles of wood lying around."

What the fuck. When the hell was Ludwig even home? I hardly ever saw the kid. And when does Ludwig take any interest in the weirdos around town?

To warn Feliciano away from them. Figures—now there's no way he'll come with me to Braginski's house to get the wood.

And he freaking didn't, that's the uncool part. I asked and he sort of looked away and shrugged and said he was cold and hungry—which he always was—and how he had to study. So I dragged my sorry ass to my tiny car and I did get wood from Braginski.

Took me five trips in my tiny car to get it all back to the house. And by that point, Feliciano had told Ludwig.

"Gilbert."

I kept hammering; this thing wasn't going to build itself.

"Gilbert, you're not building a greenhouse. I don't think you even know how. You're missing a foundation."

Kid thinks he knows everything, and Feliciano is looking between him and me. And I'm starting to feel like a fucking jackass because fuck, I did forget some sort of foundation, and I promised Feliciano a good greenhouse.

"I'm going to build the best greenhouse," I corrected. "It's going to be the Mona Lisa of greenhouses. It's going to have a fountain."

Ludwig crossed his arms.

"Not a fountain, because I haven't learned how to do outdoor plumbing yet. But I'm building a greenhouse."

Ludwig sighed the you're-literally-useless-remember-the-treehouse sigh. "Remember the treehouse?"

Ha. "No, see, a greenhouse is easier. First off…" I gestured to the flat piece of land. "Flat land. Way easier than a giant, hundred-year tree. Second, it's for Feliciano."

"Eh," Feliciano said.

Oh, no.

"Feliciano," I said, turning my attention to him. "Feliciano, remember: Apple cider."

"Well, uh, it's just that I told Ludwig about the greenhouse, and he said that it would probably take too long to build because of the snow coming, and he said that we could just get a couple of pots and a space heater and set up a couple of pots by the window. Because I'm only here for a couple of months before I visit home."

Oh, Ludwig had definitely talked with him. I looked down at my hammer, and then I looked back at Feliciano, and then Ludwig.

"I sold my soul for this wood."

Ludwig sighed another sigh through his nose and walked away.

It really sucked.

So, after Ludwig went to bed at eight, like he always did, I got drunk. It wasn't a good drunk, though, it was one of those ones where all that bad stuff you didn't want to think about is all you  _can_  think about.

I wanted to build that damn greenhouse, and I wanted Feliciano to help me, and I wanted to help plant things with him and I wanted him there with me, close and our hands brushing, and God damn, he was like a little sun.

And then I thought about Feliciano in the greenhouse with only his pajamas—which was only a tank top until Ludwig demanded he put on pants—in the greenhouse and he was smiling at me and I am drunk, drunk, drunk.

"Gilbert?"

The whisper startled me and I nearly threw my beer across the room. "Feliciano?" Feliciano was wearing pants and I was a little disappointed. "What're you…?"

Feliciano crept from the stairs and sat next to me. I couldn't see his face in the dark, and my cheeks flushed with the idea of him being so close and I was only in my underwear, for God's sake.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, for a number of things. "I really did wanna' build you'a greenhouse."

"Oh, that's okay! We can probably plant more stuff sooner with Ludwig's idea. Can I ask you why you're really drunk?"

Feliciano hadn't showered, and I could smell his deodorant and the smell of something cooked a long time ago and toothpaste.

"I dunno'," I rasped.

We sat there in silence. My mouth was dry, and Feliciano hummed to himself.

And then Feliciano's hand was on my arm, sliding down toward my hand. He squeezed my fingers.

"Ludwig said maybe I can come over—well, I can do more than a year abroad, maybe, we're going to look into it, but if I  _do_  end up coming back, but I was thinking that we could build the greenhouse then, when I just get back, to get ready for winter."

His hand was warm in mine, and my tongue was too big for my mouth. "Yeah," I mumbled.

Feliciano squeezed my fingers again. "Good night, Gilbert."

Another squeeze, and he hopped up from the couch and padded away, and my arm still tingled and my hand was cold and I ached for him to come back and talk and touch.


End file.
